


Intensity

by OhMyViolet



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Grinding, He's intense, M/M, Masturbation, Revenant wants his wires fixed, Swearing, and Elliott's into that I guess, through clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:40:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhMyViolet/pseuds/OhMyViolet
Summary: Revenant wants Elliott to fix him up after a game. He's pretty intense, and apparently Elliott is into that.
Relationships: Mirage | Elliott Witt/Revenant
Comments: 4
Kudos: 107





	Intensity

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a HC I saw on Twitter. First time writing for Revenant so let's see how this goes.

“Skinsuit!”   
Elliott had quickened his pace the first time he’d heard the call. He tried to convince himself that it wasn’t directed at him, but something in his gut told him otherwise. It told him to get out of there as quickly as possible and go back to his space on the drop ship and pull the shutters down. His boots barely made a sound on the floor as he quickly walked in the direction of the living area, until a hand was placed on his shoulder; stopping him. He could feel the coolness of the metal, even through his game suit and he was spun around to meet a pair of eyes that were just as cold, despite their warm yellow colour.   
“I forgot you were all so hard of hearing,” Revenant spoke, his tone harsh.   
The hairs stood on the back of Elliott’s neck, at the simulacrum’s voice. It seemed so much more gravelly and deep up close. He moved to toy with the cuff of his sleeve, out of nervous habit.   
“Hey...buddy. You, uh...miss me, already?” the trickster asked awkwardly, swallowing harshly.   
It was so hard to tell what the other was thinking, since his face was permanently chiseled into that stern glare. Though, Elliott couldn’t help but wonder if his jawline was that sharp when he was human or did becoming a robot come with perks that he didn’t know about.   
“You’re going to do some work for me.”  
Elliott blinked a few times.   
“I...am?”  
“You are.” 

“So...uh, _now_ are you going to tell me what’s going on here?”  
He couldn’t help but shuffle on his feet, watching cautiously as Revenant practically prowled around his room, eyeing up all of his prized possessions. He didn’t really want to die today.   
“A skinbag thought they could get the better of me during that game,” his terrifying companion explained.  
He seemed to chuckle wryly before continuing.   
“But I took care of him. However, I’m now left with this.”  
He lifted his scrawny metal arm, to reveal a piece of loose plating, the wires underneath exposed.   
“You’re going to fix it.”  
Elliott fidgeted with his belt strap, his feet growing more antsy by the second. He couldn’t be serious.  
“Well, uh...robots, I m-mean pe-people or….you,” he stammered. “Your...type, isn’t really my specialty.”  
If Revenant had eyes capable of rolling, they would have. The display was pathetic as he continued to ramble on.   
“Wattson would probably know...or Crypto...or y’know... _someone else_.”  
“Her company is less than desirable and I will not have him snooping around where he does not belong.”  
The trickster wiped his clammy hands on his thighs, looking around for inspiration.   
“Wh-what about...Octane, then? He’s taking a wrench to those legs all the time! Or...Lifeline. She’s a doctor! I’m not. Could have been, but I didn’t go to college. Man, did I ever tell you about the time, I-.”  
Revenant’s metal feet clicked on the ground, as he approached, looming over him. Just his presence alone was enough to get the trickster to shut up; something that didn’t happen too often.   
“Consider yourself lucky, I need you right now,” he said, purposely slowing his words. “Or am I right to believe what I heard about you not inheriting your mother’s genius?”  
Elliott folded his arms, defensively over his chest, as he listened.   
“Hey, man. Don’t bring my mom into this, that’s so not cool,” he spoke, his perfectly maintained eyebrows furrowing in thought. “W-wait...who said that?”   
The simulacrum turned away, echoing that same wry laughter from earlier.   
“It seems you have something to prove.”

* * *

“You should have heard him cry.”  
Elliott ran a frustrated hand through his curls, trying to block out the details of the story the other was telling. He’d spent the last two hours or so, trying to figure out how his body was configured and Revenant had decided telling the tales of his most brutal murders was a good way to pass the time.  
“Please, don’t kill me, I have a son,” he recounted, his tone mocking. “Hmph, you skinsuits cling to life so desperately as if it means anything. But that one? The only thing he ended up clinging to was the bottom of my boot.”  
Elliott slammed the tool he was using onto the table with a clatter, beginning to speak before he could stop himself.   
“Dude, can you shut the fuck up?! There’s plenty of people who wish they could come back when they die, like you. You should be more grateful!”   
He immediately regretted what he said, as soon as the simulacrum’s larger hand was gripping his face; the coldness and jagged edges of his fingers digging into his cheeks.   
“Have you not been listening?” he hissed. “I know exactly how to deal with those who step out of line. I’ll put you in your place.”  
Elliott felt his mouth run dry, suddenly very aware that he could instantly have his neck snapped with a slight turn of the other’s wrist.   
“Speak again, skinsuit. I dare you.”  
The trickster stepped back slightly and his attacker's grip on him fell slack. He hung his head while the simulacrum laughed again.   
“You’re weak. Just as I expected.”

“I think I’m almost done here,” Elliott spoke, sorting through the smaller wires located around his charge’s hip area, making sure they were all connected properly. He wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, but also wanted to avoid getting a knife in his back, for shoddy workmanship.  
“But I’m not really sure about this one.”   
He followed the thicker wire with his fingers. It seemed to begin somewhere under the simulacrum’s pelvis plate and travelled the whole way up his body, disappearing somewhere between his shoulders. He gave it an experimental tug, causing Revenant to emit what sounded like a muffled grunt.   
“Oh, erm, s-sorry I’m just...I think this one needs to be tightened more.”   
He leaned over his project, stretching himself around the other so he could reach his back. He didn’t realise the position he was in until it was too late, with each of his legs either side of Revenant’s thigh; his metal knee hovering dangerously close to his crotch. He was caught looking of course, and Revenant found himself almost amused at the glint of fear in the holo-technician’s eyes. Elliott met his gaze, the brightness of those yellow lights burning through him. Damn, he was intense. He couldn’t look away. Revenant brushed his knee against the other’s intimacy, merely just to see what his reaction would be. He let out a surprised yelp at first, quickly followed by a quiet groan when the pressure was increased slightly. He tried to pull away but the firm grip that was now on his arm, stopped him.   
“You have work to do.”  
Elliott could feel his face heat up, his mouth so dry he struggled more than usual to get his words out.  
“I...c-can’t con-conce-...focus.”  
He clenched his eyes shut, as the friction continued; desperately trying to keep his mouth shut too, as to not make any more embarrassing noises.   
_Don’t get hard, don’t get hard. Dead kittens, dead kittens._  
“You skinbags should be ashamed of yourselves,” the simulacrum scoffed. “So sensitive. Aren’t you? It’s pathetic.”

* * *

“Oh my God,” Elliott breathed, his fingers brushing over the sweat trail that had begun on his neck somewhere and hard tricked down onto his chest.   
_I need you right now._   
His eyelashes fluttered closed, as the intensity built, his chest rising and falling in an attempt to keep up.   
_I’ll put you in your place._  
He bit down on his lower lip hard, his toes curling into his sheets in pleasure.   
_You’re weak._   
The back of his legs started to ache, and he had to use his spare hand as a barrier against the mewl that threatened to escape his lips.   
_So sensitive. Aren’t you?_  
“Oh, f-fuck, fuck, Revanent,” he gasped out, unable to contain himself as he came, shooting white ribbons onto his stomach.   
He lay there for a few moments, in a daze, until he slowly opened his eyes to inspect the mess he’d made of himself. He closed his fingers into the stickiness in his palm for a moment, before rolling over to grab something to clean up with. His gaze drifted towards the work bench, where the simulacrum who had conquered his thoughts this evening, previously sat. He felt a little sick with himself, as he dumped the used tissues into the trash can beside his bed. What the hell was wrong with him? Who in their right mind fantasies about a literal muder robot? He sighed, and tugged the blankets over himself. 

He might not know much about Revenant just yet, but he did know one thing; as soon as they got back to Solace, he was heading straight to therapy. 


End file.
